


Young Folks

by zoodlino



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Assassin's Creed II, Bisexual Ezio Auditore da Firenze, College, Crossover, M/M, Minor Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Minor Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor Original Character(s), New York City, Students, The Old Guard charas show up as mortal supporting charas, basically a nice Italian granny and some other seniors, but you dont need to know anything about them really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoodlino/pseuds/zoodlino
Summary: Jock!Ezio punches a shit-talking fellow student and gets ordered to do community service by the university.His assignment? Helping out with art classes at a retirement home...along with art student Leonardo.
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	1. Headstrong

“You fucking idiot!”

The insult is accompanied by a resounding slap to the back of Ezio’s head.

By all means, coaches at prestigious universities are not meant to curse at their students. Or hit them on the head. Especially not when they pay as much tuition as Ezio does.

Andromache, or Andy for short, is not really typical when it comes to her manners. Or anything else about her, really. But she gets the job done and has Columbia’s sports department rated as one of the top programs in the country.

She’s one of the main reasons Ezio decided to leave his beloved homeland of Italy for New York, despite it being cold and windy and having incredibly sub-par coffee. Do not even get him started on the pizza.

Andy, evidently noticing Ezio’s mental tangent, glares at him. “What do I always say?”

“You are going to win, whatever it takes?”

Teeth glinting in the late autumn sun that is pouring through her office’s windows, Andy grins viciously.

“That, too. But mainly: if you’re going to be stupid enough to punch someone, don’t do it in front of a crowd full of witnesses! Whatever happened to good old hazing in the dark of night? Aren’t you frat boys supposed to be good at that? Or, at the very least sneaking some Nair into your enemy’s shampoo bottle? I remember when I was at university…”

She pauses, reminiscing. A moment passes. Then another. Annoyed now, Ezio clears his throat, and Andy snaps to attention.

“Yes. Anyways. To make things even worse, you decided to punch Steven Merrick?! His father singlehandedly keeps this university’s higher-ups supplied with cash…and who knows what kind of pharmaceuticals. You didn’t really think you’d get away with this, did you?

Jaw clenching, Ezio crosses his arms in front of him defensively. “Some things in life are worth the punishment.”

Andy’s flat hand slams down on the table.

“You think I don’t want to punch half this university’s faculty on a daily basis? Of course I do. You keep your head down, you do your training, you excel, and you show all of them by being the best you possibly can. You don’t just….fucking deck them in broad daylight.”

Ezio meets her gaze unwaveringly. “If you had heard the things he said, Coach…you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.”

The coach’s face softens a bit. “Now…some of your team mates have come forward to tell me their version of events. As much as I love to see you drinking that respecting women juice…this is not the way to handle things. Sugar cookie, Mister Auditore?”

Startled by this turn of events, Ezio glances at the proffered cookie with concern. Andy rolls her eyes. “Relax, they’re store bought. My wife banned me from using the oven.”

Reassured, Ezio crunches down on the cookie. It tastes a little like plastic, but Andy’s taste buds are probably more than a bit deadened from all the energy drinks she downs on a regular basis. 

“Nevertheless, as noble as your intentions might have been, the Board insists on punishment, and so does Merrick’s father. I’ve managed to talk them down….to community service. You’ll be helping out an art class at the elderly folks’ home.”

Ezio’s jaw drops. “He compares women to fucking rats and I’m the one who has to do penance?”

“That’s the way of the world, Auditore. Not that I’m not sympathetic to your plight…but we have to keep up appearances. And don’t think you’ll be getting out of training early for your shifts.”

Fuming, Ezio’s hands curl into fists, crushing the remaining crumbs of the sugar cookie. “I have a full workload! And a life, coach! Friends, sports, classes…how am I supposed to do it all?”

Andy shrugs, clearly already moving on. “Next time, be smarter. Or at the very least, sneakier.”

On the verge of kicking the trashcan beside the desk, Ezio’s growing rage is interrupted by a knock on the door. A woman with sleek black hair walks in, startlingly beautiful in a long red coat.

“Andromache? You were only set to work till 4, what happened? I was waiting for you.”

The woman, clearly Andy’s wife, frowns, and Andy is at her side in an instant, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry, my love. Today’s youths are less smart than we were back in the day.”

Remembering Ezio, who is still trying to get a handle on his anger, Andy grins. “Auditore. Meet Quynh, the aforementioned wife. She’s in the marine biology department, but I doubt you spend much time there.”

Quynh smiles briefly at Ezio, but is too focused on Andy to give him more than a moment’s worth of attention. For a second, Ezio is absurdly jealous, of the enormous love that there obviously is between the two women. It must be nice, to have someone missing you when you don’t show up. 

“Yes, yes. Can we get going? Joe and Nicky are waiting.” Quynh takes Andy’s hand, like she has done it a million times. And she probably has. Maybe if Ezio had someone’s hand to hold, he’d be less likely to punch assholes like Steven Merrick. But what’s done is done.

Andy grabs her olive coat from her chair and tosses keys at Ezio. “Lock up, will you? And just give Nile the keys after, she’s manning the student gym facility.” 

Ezio nods, starting to resign himself to his fate.

Andy turns around. “Oh, I almost forgot. Your first community service shift is tomorrow afternoon. I’ve given your contact info to some art student that does the courses there….Leonardo something?” 


	2. Judgemental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It continues! I had fun writing this, hope you enjoy reading it! xx

Ezio arrives to his first community service shift late, out of breath, and significantly sweaty.

The M train decided to be decidedly late, and then gave up running service all together, leaving Ezio with about 5 minutes left to cover the 30 blocks between Columbia and the retirement home – not really a manageable distance, even for someone in the athletic program.

Needless to say, he is not going to make a good expression with his supervisor Leonardo, who was already quite curt when mailing him the shift information.

Ezio doesn’t exactly have good experiences with art students so far – they are usually pretentious, and wear stuff like berets and monocles to seem unique - so he isn’t particularly surprised; he just wants to get through this community service as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Of course, Leonardo wears a fucking beret. And a red one, at that. Ezio groans under his breath. Well. Might as well get this bad beginning over with.

The kind woman that had directed him to the art room had, to his relief, not commented on his slightly deranged looking appearance and the drops of sweat on his forehead.

A long-haired elderly woman waving her paintbrush around animatedly in the last row of easels is, unfortunately, not as kind. “Oy, Casanova, did you think just because we’re old we don’t have any sense of smell left in us? And to leave us waiting, too!”

The red beret-ed group supervisor narrows his eyes in Ezio’s direction. “Signore Auditore. Lack of punctuality, punching fellow students…it would appear you have more vices than virtues.”

So that’s how it’s gonna be. Ezio clenches his jaw and tries to seem threatening. It’s not easy when you’re coming from training and wearing active wear. “You know how it is. The train…”

Sighing briefly, Leonardo graces him with a patronizing grin. “Yes. Convenient excuse. Now, are you ready to get started or not? Come to the front instead of loitering around at the back of the room. You didn’t think this was going to be the way of things, did you? No signature for your hours without active participation.”

The same lady from the backrow whistles through her teeth, nudging the woman next to her. “Ethel, make a run to the popcorn machine, this is going to be good!”

Leonardo rolls his eyes, but it is without heat. “Maria, focus that energy on your art instead, yes?”

Maria grins from where she is perched on her stool. “Si, maestro. Now if only you’d put in a good word with the administration for me, we could actually get a popcorn machine…”

Meanwhile Ezio, who has been watching the exchange, is steeling himself for what exactly active participation looks like. They better not plan on using him for a nude model. His fears, however, are unfounded. For now.

Grabbing Ezio’s arm, Leonardo half-drags him to the front of the room. “You will sit in this chair, hold this fruit bowl, and not move for…well, an hour is the usual, but let’s make it an hour and a half to make up for your tardiness. The seniors will draw the scene and you will stay very, very still.”

To amplify her voice further, Maria cups her hands around her mouth from the back. “But what about afternoon coffee? We’ll miss that if we stay an extra half hour.” A nervous murmuring goes through the room.

Leonardo smiles patiently. “I’ll make sure they save you some. We want to do our part in service of Signore Auditore’s rehabilitation, don’t we?”

This seems to appease the seniors, with Maria throwing in “Oh, I’d like to service him, alright” as Ezio uses the corner of his shirt to dab at the sweat on his forehead, and it rides up, revealing his toned stomach. Ethel whistles in agreement.

Disapprovingly, Leonardo thrusts the fruit bowl at Ezio, who stumbles back with the force of it. “Enough preening, Signore Auditore.”

Before Ezio can protest, Leonardo is making the rounds, offering advice on paint versus pencil, or whatever exactly it is art students do.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sitting still is not Ezio’s strength. He much prefers movement, of any kind, with any kind of athletic equipment at all. It’s not helping that Leonardo is throwing daggers at him with his eyes, as if daring him to drop the bowl.

Once, Ezio reaches to scratch his nose, and the ice in Leonardo’s eyes could do something about that whole global warming thing. After that, he refrains from even the slightest twitch. God knows he doesn’t need to be doing make-up hours for his community service because the art student decides he isn’t keeping up his end of the deal.

After ages, Leonardo rings a little bell. “Alright, folks, your time is up! Make your way to the lounge for coffee now, Signore Auditore and I will clean up.”

Ezio jumps from the chair and shakes his limbs. “So, did the paintings at least turn out any good?”

Leonardo’s smirk should have told Ezio that something was wrong. The artist grabs the nearest canvas, and turns it around so Ezio can take a look. “Tell me yourself.” 

The painting is, no doubt, quite lovely. It is, however, very much a painting of the fruit bowl, with no hint of even Ezio’s hands holding it up. Ezio walks down the row, staring at the easels. Not a single one of the artworks features Ezio in the slightest way.

“Is this a joke? Why did you need me to sit that still if they weren’t even drawing me?!”

Shrugging, Leonardo deliberates. “This is an introductory class. No one ever said anything about drawing YOU, did they?”

Ezio is fuming. “And you couldn’t just have….placed the bowl on the fucking chair?”

Leonardo tuts reproachfully. “Language! And no, that angle is entirely unsatisfactory for painting. Are you really that vain, Signore Auditore?”

Throwing his hands up, Ezio exhales loudly. “Ezio! It’s Ezio, not _Signore Auditore._ ”

“Well, Ezio, are you going to help me return the supplies to the supply closet or not?”

This is going to be one long, long nightmare.


	3. Proud

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication is such a fun trope...hehe :D xx

“He’s- just- so- fucking- infuriating!”

Each word is punctuated with the loud smack of Ezio’s fist, connecting with the punching bag.

When in doubt, Ezio always finds, sweating it out works best of all. There’s also fucking it out, of course, but frankly, Ezio can’t be bothered to deal with Tinder or chatting random people up. He has enough on his plate already.

Nile, who mans the student gym in Andy’s name, observes his form, adjusting his elbow position slightly. She nods sagely. “So, this…Leonardo. Is he at least hot?”

Ezio steps back, wiping the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t thought about it, really. Which is a blatant lie. Leonardo is more than hot, he is exactly Ezio’s type – well, as much as Ezio has a type. Piercing eyes, infuriating smirk…if only there weren’t the fact that he hates Ezio’s guts.

“He’s….alright, I guess.” The Italian’s attempt at nonchalant is, as all his attempts at acting are, entirely poor and all too easy to see through.

Pushing her tongue between her teeth, Nile grins. “So, you want to bone him. Only problem is, he can’t stand you. Is there a broom cupboard I could shove you guys into? Hate sex is better than no sex, right?”

Ezio pauses, considering, only to see Nile’s lip trembling with oncoming laughter.

“I was mainly kidding…and yet, you seem amenable to the idea. Must be quite the guy.”

She nudges his elbow again, correcting his stance. Ezio usually doesn’t go for boxing, but it is great for getting out tension. His mind wanders back to Leonardo, wondering what the art student does to destress.

Probably do something artsy-fartsy and romantic with whomever he is dating. It brings unexpected bile to Ezio’s mouth. No! This is ridiculous. He tells Nile as much.

She waggles her eyebrows. “And yet, here you are, engaged in one of your least favorite forms of exercise, just to get him out of your system.”

The sports major sighs, resting his head against the punching bag. “You…may have a point.”

Nile cackles with mirth, and Ezio half-heartedly swats at her arm. “Does Andy know you’re a counselor as well as a gym instructor?”

“Is Nile meddling again?” On cue, Andromache swaggers into the room, dressed in her usual all-black, dropping her trench-coat on the counter.

Ezio faces his coach. “Terribly so. She seems to think I need to get laid.”

Andy doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, definitely. You know what I say about increasing stamina.”

Face burning, Ezio decides his workout is over, and stalks out. As he leaves, he could swear he sees Nile and Andy high-fiving out of the corner of his eyes. 

\- - - - - - - - -

“He’s just….such an….oaf!”

Sebastien - or Booker, as he goes by more frequently - raises his shot glass in toast to the statement.

Squinting, Leonardo eyes the bottle of whatever it is the fellow blond is imbibing. “How is that a reason to drink?”

“Everything’s a reason to drink if you try hard enough.”

Well. That certainly sums Booker up as a person.

Of course, when Leonardo got rejected from the dorms, having found out about his acceptance to Columbia long after the application deadline, finding a place alone was not an option financially – and so here he is, with a Frenchman of a roommate who is drunk more than he is sober.

Never mind that it’s only 11 AM. 

You’d think they have more in common, what with the proximity of their native languages to each other; instead, Leonardo is kept up at night by Booker crying alone in his room. And, one time, even while Booker had someone over. Leonardo is not surprised the girl didn’t stay for breakfast.

Then again, who else does the art student have to talk to? New York is a cold place filled with people who don’t seem to really care all that much about anything, and it isn’t exactly an option to talk to Maria at the senior center about his woes. Then again…

“Is you calling this guy an oaf just roundabout way of saying you’d like to jump his bones? Based on…”

Booker looks a bit pained, and grabs a piece of drawing paper from the table. On it is…well, someone of Ezio’s body type, sure. Leonardo is an artist, after all, so appreciation of anatomy is just natural. Or so he reasons.

“I would never!”

Snorting, Booker downs another gulp, this time straight from the bottle. “Right. Whatever you tell yourself to get to sleep at night.”

“At least I don’t drink and cry myself to sleep!”

Leonardo bites his tongue, knowing the second he’s said it that he’s gone too far. Booker’s expression sours, but as Leonardo fumbles for something to make up for his harshness, the Frenchman lets out a bitter laugh.

“Deflection always says more about the other person than it does yourself, you know.”

Damn psychology students. Leonardo grabs Booker’s discarded shot glass and grabs the bottle out of his hands, pouring himself some. “You know, if you weren’t so sad, you may just be funny.”

Booker grunts, clearly having lost interest in the conversation. Leonardo is left to ponder the harsh burn of the alcohol in his throat and how he’s going to deal with the brawler in his senior’s art course.

He also makes a mental note not to leave his, uh, drawings around anymore.

\- - - - - - - - -

Ezio’s shift at the senior home that afternoon is surprisingly not-painful. In lieu of needling him, Leonardo seems to be settling for ignoring him entirely, which is more than fine with Ezio. He spends the afternoon cleaning paint spills and offering encouraging words.

Of course, this only makes Leonardo eye him suspiciously, and Ezio feels the need to state the fact that he is not, as the art student seems to think, a total asshole. But that might just be a waste of time, with Leonardo determined to hate him.

Though Ezio could swear his eyes had lingered ever so slightly on the jock’s tight-fighting black shirt. Maybe Nile was right after all? He pushes the thought from his mind, focusing instead on bantering with Maria, the most enthusiastic of the seniors.

By the end of the session, he has an open invitation to Maria’s room, where she apparently makes pasta for those not happy with the home’s cuisine on a non-regulation hot plate.

The lilt of her voice reminds Ezio of his family and Florence, and he assures her that he will take her up on the offer at earliest convenience. Her offer for skinny-dipping in the senior home’s pool area, however, he may just decline.

Afterwards, Leonardo and Ezio clean the room again in a terse silence. They open the door to the outside to get rid of the paint fumes, return the paints and other equipment to their proper places, and sweep a bit.

“So, uh…” Ezio wrings his hands.

Leonardo doesn’t give him a second glance. “Yes. You can go, you are dismissed.” 

Rolling his eyes at the art student’s cold manner, Ezio grabs his jacket and is about to leave when a piercing scream splits the air.

Both of their heads snap up, and the sound of splashing is unmistakable – one of the seniors must have fallen into the pool outside. Ezio doesn’t hesitate, dropping the jacket on the floor and rushing to the ajar door.

Sure enough, Maria is floundering at the deeper end of the pool, her head struggling to bob above the surface, sinking under occasionally. Leonardo is on Ezio’s heels, but the sports major is the first to jump into the water, making for Maria with strong, steady strokes.

She clings to his arms, spitting water. Ezio hauls her out of the pool, where Leonardo has somehow procured a towel that he wraps around her shoulders in worry.

“Madre di Dio! One moment I was going for a stroll, and next thing I know…” Maria gesticulates wildly, apparently showing how she came to be drowning during non-pool hours.

Ezio, since he is already sopping wet, makes sure to retrieve her cane from the water as well, handing it back to her, trying not to drip on her any further.

“You better get inside and warmed up, Maria. Can’t have you catching a chill and missing art class, after all.” He winks at her, and true to form, she winks back, albeit a bit more weakly. A handful of staff members has assembled, clearly drawn by the noise, and Maria is bundled off inside.

Leonardo frowns, and Ezio wants to scream. Does he find issue with Ezio saving Maria from drowning as well? Madre di Dio indeed. He turns, ready to make his way home, wet as he is, when there is a hand on his shoulder.

“You…really shouldn’t stay like that. Can’t have you missing class either, eh?”

Ezio’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Are you sure _you_ aren’t the one who just had a near-death experience?”

The art student’s mouth opens, then closes.

“That’s…probably fair. Look, I just…thought you were some brute of a brawler who doesn’t care about anyone. But you saved Maria.”

Exhaling loudly, Ezio shakes his head. “Did you think I was going to let her drown? Do you really think so little of me?” He pauses. “Actually, don’t answer that, I don’t want to know.”

Leonardo’s mouth is a thin, thin line. “Listen I…may have judged you a bit too harshly. You’re…sweet, with the seniors. The punching someone thing tripped me up, I guess."

Ezio considers this. “You do know I punched the guy over his misogynist remarks, don’t you?”

Flummoxed is not enough to describe Leonardo’s expression. “You….what?”

“It may not have been smart, but trust me, it was necessary. He had it coming.”

The art student suddenly looks very, very downtrodden. “So you…I….oh. Oh. Oh! Right. So, uh… let’s get you out of these wet clothes, shall we?”

Ezio is tempted to smirk a bit, but figures he doesn’t want to break the delicate blossoms of Leonardo’s changed opinion of him just yet. “Yes. Let’s do that…Signore da Vinci.”

Leonardo has the good grace to look ashamed.


End file.
